


Lynx In Chains

by Heliocat



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Abuse, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Use, Eiji Is Allowed To Say Fuck Though, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Psychological Torture, Torture, What-If, You Have Been Warned, alternative ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heliocat/pseuds/Heliocat
Summary: Dark what-if fic, detailing what could have been had Yut Lung completely abandoned Ash in Dino's mansion and not left him a key.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji, Ibe Shunichi & Max Lobo, Ibe Shunichi & Okumura Eiji, Max Lobo & Ash Lynx
Comments: 23
Kudos: 65





	Lynx In Chains

**Author's Note:**

> **DEAD DOVE WARNING IS REAL!**  
>  This is not my usual fluff. Neither is it thoughtful angst. I was in two minds as to whether I wanted to post this or not, because it is such a dog-leg from my usual stuff. It's languished on my hard drive for a few months half-finished, just me practicing and playing around with different styles and genres, and I finally finished it off. It's essentially what Arthur told Ash would happen to them while they were prisoner. **I am about to kill everyone.** Arthur is also very racist in this: his views do not reflect my own. I purposefully made him a prick because he is a horrible person. 
> 
> **This is your last warning.** You can still turn back. I have plenty of fluff and happy things you can try instead. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows. 
> 
> The bad ending that could have been.
> 
> British English spelling and grammar, because it's all my English ass knows.
> 
> Many thanks to Akimi Yoshida for creating Banana Fish - this is a work of fanfiction, so I own none of the intellectual property.

Following Shorter’s end, it was a full 24 hours before anyone came to inflict more misery on them. Overnight, Ash had heard a lot of commotion in the mansion. There had been gunshots, the sound of pounding boots on the floor above, several screams… He felt uneasy, knowing something was kicking off but not knowing the details. The next day, Arthur had come in and gleefully shown him several gory photographs. He couldn’t stop himself whimpering when he recognised most of the faces; Bones, Kong, Alex… his boys with vacant eyes, painted in shades of crimson, laying sprawled in corridors like broken rag-dolls on the plush carpet.

Arthur regaled him gleefully with the story, how they had come to save him, how he and Golzine’s goons had herded them into a dead end and picked them off one by one. The Chinese had gotten involved too, looking for Shorter apparently, but somehow most of them had eluded capture. Yau-si had also escaped, but Ash hardly cared. He was too distraught.

“…Why?” he had asked. “They were just a bunch of kids – they didn’t know anything! So why?”

“Because Golzine aims to take everything from you,” Arthur said. “No friends. No family. No gang. No future. Also, while I can’t say the same for the Monsieur, it’s fun for me to see you suffer.”

“You sick son of a bitch!” Max swore, glaring with anger and disgust. “You’re nothing more than a psycho!”

“True, my mother was a bitch,” Arthur agreed, nodding. “That’s why Daddy killed her and got taken down, leaving me in social care with the rest of the broken kids. You can blame the system for making me what I am today!”

“Ei-chan…? Where is Eiji?” Ibe demanded. “I have to know!”

“You should really be worried about yourself, Mr Miyagi!” Arthur smirked. “Your little bob-cat will be well looked after, I can assure you!”

“Please! Let him go – he has done nothing wrong! He is not involved!” Ibe pleaded.

“He got involved the minute he met Ash Lynx,” Arthur countered. “Be interesting to see how long he lasts in Papa’s care! He seems, how should I put it? Delicate? I hope he doesn’t break. I’ll be back tomorrow with more news – don’t cause any trouble while I’m gone!” Arthur left them while cackling maniacally.

With the exception of a servant, who came in once to offer them water, allowing them to sip it from a bottle using a straw, and offering them the use of a travel urinal for other business, the trio were left alone for the rest of the day. Ash’s arms at that point had gone numb, his legs like jelly and quivering from the effort of standing up so long. He wanted to sleep, but every time he drifted off it was like being crucified, his arms forced upwards as his legs gave way, putting pressure on his chest and making it hard to breathe. Part of his torture, he assumed, was sleep deprivation. He managed to cat-nap standing up, microsleeps just managing to keep his sanity intact, but he didn’t know how long it would last. He was already so close to breaking. Max kept asking if he was alright, even though he knew the answer; he could see Ash faltering as the hours wore on, and the sight of it broke his heart. What would Griffin have thought, seeing his little brother strung up like this, everything he cared about stripped away from him. Not even the Vietcong had been this cruel to their prisoners, and they were notorious for their savagery.

*

Arthur returned in the morning, pushing a television on a trolley into the room in front of him, a disturbing grin on his face.

“Got something special for you today,” he crowed delightedly, pulling a handful of photos from his pocket. “Think I’ll show Takeshi’s Castle here first…”

He showed Ibe the photos. Ash watched as all colour drained from the Japanese man’s face, a look of horror and repulsion and shame sliding onto his features, tears silently falling from his eyes.

“Ei-chan…” he mewled, followed by a stream of unintelligible Japanese.

“Told you he’d be looked after!” Arthur gloated.

“Shunichi! Shunichi – what is it?!” Max demanded, but Ibe was too upset to answer in English.

“What have they done to Eiji?” Ash growled, glaring at Arthur and fearing the worst.

“Exactly as was promised,” Arthur smirked. “They gave him your old job, honey.”

The photos he showed Ash had the uncomfortably familiar handiwork of Frog written all over them. He’d had enough of them taken of himself in the past, but what he saw now made him want to vomit. Eiji had been tied up, his hands bound together and then attached to the headboard of a double bed with a length of rough hemp rope. He’d been stripped naked, forced into several compromising positions, every inch of him thoroughly groped and explored… nowhere was sacred.

“You… those sick bastards…” Ash hissed through his teeth, turning his head away from the photos. “Eiji has nothing to do with this! He hasn’t…”

“They got a video of the best bits too,” Arthur smirked, walking back to the TV. He turned it on, pressed play on the VCR.

The video showed Eiji pleading in a mixture of broken English and hysterical Japanese, tears streaming down his fearful face as he struggled, wriggling and writhing, cringing away from the possessive hands grabbing at him, fondling him. Ash would recognise the flabby body of the person molesting him anywhere; it was Golzine himself. The fat old bastard had straddled Eiji, mounting him. Eiji had screamed as Golzine pinned him down, forced his legs apart, and entered him, his face contorted in terror and pain as he was violently raped. Ash found he was shaking, unwelcome memories of his first few times resurfacing in his head. He would not wish that humiliation and terror on anyone, not even his worst enemy… although Arthur certainly deserved something long and hard being shoved where the sun doesn’t shine.

“Oh… my God…” Max muttered, horrified. “Fuck!”

“Golzine was quite impressed with him,” Arthur commented, pausing the video. “He doesn’t normally go in for sushi, but he’s decided to keep him off the menu for now, so you don’t have to worry – he won’t be sent to the club. Besides, we found out he’s a lot older than he looks, so he’s not really suitable fare for the punters. Monsieur has something special in mind for him later, but until then he’s going to enjoy his time with him, nice and slow.”

“You tell that… that fat fucker… that he can go to hell,” Ash said, dangerously quiet.

“I’ll pass on the message,” Arthur promised, grinning. He left them alone, taking the TV with him. Ash silently watched Max trying his best to console Ibe, who just kept mumbling Eiji’s name and the word ‘gomennasai’ over and over while sobbing.

*

The third morning, two goons came in and finally let Ash down from his chains. The poor kid was practically dead on his feet, and collapsed to the ground the minute the tension was eased. They didn’t unshackle him, so he remained chained as before by his wrists, groaning. Pins and needles assaulted his arms as blood flow returned to them, compressed nerves freed. He lay, shivering, as the goons left without a word.

“Ash…?” Max called to him, again wishing to check he was alright. Ash found that Max’s voice was one of the few things keeping him grounded. He would check in on him every couple of hours; a kind voice floating in the darkness. Without Max there, Ash felt he would have snapped.

“I’m OK…” he replied tiredly. “Well… not OK… but… yeah.”

“At least you can sleep now,” Max said sadly. Ash didn’t reply; he’d already blacked out into unconsciousness.

Ibe hadn’t spoken a word since yesterday. Once he’d calmed down following Arthur’s visit, he’d fallen silent, slumped limply in the chains binding them both. He was breathing, but Max figured his gentle Japanese friend was already lost.

*

The afternoon saw several people enter the chamber. Dawson, four heavies, Arthur, and a handful of people in lab coats. Ash immediately looked up at the viewing balcony, where Golzine stood with several men in smart military outfits. His heart skipped a beat as he realised what was about to happen; another Banana Fish demonstration.

“…Pops…” he croaked, pushing himself up into a kneeling position with some difficulty. He lacked the energy to stand right now. Everything hurt, his legs and arms stiff from the last few days of abuse.

“I’m alright, Ash,” Max replied, but he sounded anything but alright. Like Ash, Max knew what was coming next. The bitter taste of bile assaulted his tongue, listening to their captors discussing how they were going to do this.

“So, which one is the test subject this time?” Dawson asked, looking up to Golzine. “The journalist or the Jap?”

“I fear our Japanese friend lacks the ability to go Super Saiyan after I showed him that video of his pet kitten enjoying the pleasure of your company yesterday,” Arthur sniggered, calling up to Golzine. “I doubt he’d make a good example, even pumped full of the good stuff!”

“This is true,” Golzine nodded thoughtfully. “He is not especially strong either, in mind or body. Our aim here is to show our esteemed guests its worth as a weapon.” He turned to the assembled military and government officials. “Gentlemen, the two men you see before you are good friends. One of them is a former soldier, who fought in Vietnam, and I believe he was in the NYPD as well. We have observed him over the last few days and, compared to our other prisoners, including my own wayward charge, he is holding up the best both mentally and physically. He is smart; he is an independent member of the investigative press and used to write a newspaper column of some renown. We feel his mind would be a much harder nut to crack than the street kid used in our last experiment. Today, you will see the power of Banana Fish on even the strongest of minds.”

“Give it to Lobo!” Arthur told Dawson.

“Affirmative,” Dawson nodded. He turned to the goons. “Unchain them and bring them here.”

“Shunichi!” Max yelled at his friend as they unchained them both and dragged them to their feet. Ibe made a few fearful whining noises, but didn’t fight back too hard. Max, however, started struggling the moment he felt the chains loosen. He lashed out, squirming wildly. He managed to get an arm free, and he flailed it erratically in their general direction. He felt a grim shot of pleasure that he managed to punch one of them in the temple and elbowed the other in the face before they got him under control, jabbing him hard in the solar plexus to knock the wind out of him and wrenching his hand up his back painfully. He roared, the ball-and-socket joint in his shoulder forced round to its limit.

“Leave them alone!” Ash begged. “Please! They haven’t done anything! Let them go – you just want me, right?”

“You better watch, Lynx!” Arthur had sidled up beside him, crouching down to whisper in his ear, barely able to hide his excitement, tittering like a nervous schoolgirl. “They are going to do the same to them as they did to Shorter! Watch, and suffer!”

Dawson prepared a syringe while the goons wrestled with Max. Ash could hear the murmurs of Golzine discussing the drug upstairs to his esteemed guests.

“Our last experiment was done intravenously as a control, but today we will be showing you how fast the drug can act even if just injected normally into muscular tissue in a small amount. The drug can also be issued by mouth in a powder and pill form, ideal for poisoning and assassination if a hypodermic is not practical… we shall do a demonstration on that method of use in due course…”

“Don’t you come near me, you murderous son of a bitch,” Max growled at Dawson. “I’ll kill you for what you did to my best friend, you treacherous fuck!”

“I hardly think you are in a position to make threats, Lobo,” Dawson replied. “If I were you, I’d lay back and think of science. Your sacrifice will help a lot of people.”

“Max!” Ash cried, desperately. “Ibe! Oh God – please! Shorter was enough!!! Please – don’t do it!”

“Aaaaaah! I love it when you beg like that,” Arthur moaned blissfully. He was blatantly getting off on the events unfolding.

“Go to hell!” Max spat at the scientist.

“I’ll see you there, Lobo,” Dawson hissed. He jabbed the needle into Max’s shoulder, squeezing its contents in quickly before stepping back.

There was a pregnant pause, perfect silence in which nothing happened. The seconds lasted hours, ticking by slowly with no obvious changes. Had it worked? Was Max alright? The former soldier started to shake, his breathing altering to become ragged and panicked…

“Max!!!” Ash cried at him again. “Fight it!!! My brother tried – you know he did! And you’re stronger than Griff! You can too! FIGHT IT!!!”

He tried, he really did. He was sweating, shivering, moaning pitifully as the drug took hold. His pupils blew, making his eyes look wild.

“Max!!!” Ash kept yelling at him. “Max! Listen to my voice, alright! Just keep listening to me! Not to them – just to me!”

As they had done with Shorter, they dragged Ibe into Max’s eyeline. Ibe was crying, terrified.

“You’re in Vietnam, Lobo,” Dawson spoke directly to Max, making eye contact. “The war is still ongoing. Your platoon is dead.”

“Max, they’re lying! The war is over! Don’t listen!”

“We caught the man who did it. This Vietcong bastard here!”

“Max – that’s Ibe! He’s your friend! He’s not even Vietnamese – oh fuck! Max!”

“He slaughtered everyone, Lobo.”

“Don’t listen Max!”

“He killed all your friends. You hate this person. You wish they were dead.”

“Max!”

Max screamed, the drug taking a full hold. His face contorted in horror and rage.

“If you kill this Vietcong, your pain will end. You’ll avenge your buddies, Lobo.”

“Max don’t…”

“Kill him, Lobo.”

Max howled, sounding barely human. He thrashed violently, teeth gnashing.

“Let them go,” Golzine’s voice instructed from above.

The goons released Ibe and Max at the same time. Ibe stumbled backwards as Max launched himself at him, screaming. With a terrified squeak, Ibe scrambled away, running as Max pursued him across the dungeon.

“Don’t…. you run away from me… fucking Vietcong bastard!” Max huffed. “I’ll kill you!”

“Max – stop!” Ash begged. “It’s Ibe! He’s not the enemy!”

Ibe was many things. He was kind and generous, gentle, anxious and neurotic at times, but reliable and brave when he needed to be. What he wasn’t was strong or fast. He was a photographer, not a fighter. Max, however, had maintained much of his fitness and strength from his time in the Army and NYPD. He kept fit, he did cardio and weights, and had been trained in several ways to kill. Even unarmed, he was deadly. It didn’t take him very long to snatch Ibe, tackling him and forcing them both to the floor. There was a brief tussle, the two men wrestling, the battle lost from the start. Max was heavier and taller than Ibe, and quickly caught him in a chokehold. Ibe stuttered a few words of terrified Japanese at Max, pleading with him, struggling to breathe.

“MAAAAAAAAAX!” Ash shrieked

Max gave a guttural yell, wrenched his hands with a quick twisting motion… a loud snap echoed around the chamber. Ibe fell still and silent, his body relaxing suddenly. The only comfort was that he had at least died quickly.

“Oh God…” Ash whimpered. “Ibe… Shit!”

Max released Ibe, shaking violently, moaning as he pushed the body away from him, panting. He looked up, his eyes meeting Ash’s .

“…Griffin?” he croaked.

“Max, no, I’m not…”

“Griff, buddy… I’m sorry.” Max whined, crawling towards him. The Banana Fish had mixed up his memories; stuck in ‘Nam, he was mistaking Ash for his brother. “I tried… I really did! I tried! I fought it as long as I could!”

“I know, Max,” Ash said quietly. “I know you did.”

“I couldn’t save you…” he sobbed, clawing at his arms. “I couldn’t save you… and I couldn’t save Aslan… I failed…”

“Max…”

“It hurts Griff… Fuck, it hurts so much! I’m scared!”

“You didn’t fail, Max,” Ash reassured him. He tried to smile bravely as he reached out a hand to gently cup Max’s chin. “You did great!”

“I’ll be joining you real soon, buddy,” Max whispered.

“I’m sorry…”

“Jesus, this is too touching for my liking,” Arthur interrupted them. He kicked Max in the head hard, the older man flopping to the floor with a pained grunt. He knelt down, grabbed Max by the hair… “You finished with the puppy, Dawson?”

“His purpose is over – just keep the brain intact,” Dawson said coldly.

“Can do!” Arthur smirked. He pulled his switchblade from his back trouser pocket. “You watching, Ash? Consider it a mercy killing!”

Ash wanted to look away, but found he couldn’t. He looked on in horror as Arthur slit Max’s throat in one clean stroke. Some blood spray reached him, peppering him with red specks. He cried out in despair as Max breathed his last. He may not have known the man all that long, and he may have found him annoying and bothersome at times, but Max was easily the closest thing to a decent father figure he had. He was a good person… he hadn’t deserved an end like that... And it was all his fault. What about Jessica and Michael? Michael was now going to grow up without a father. His last memories of his dad would be him leaving his mother when she needed him to chase after some undeserving 17-year-old gang punk. Neither of them would ever find out what had happened; it’d be like he abandoned them. Then there was Ibe. He no doubt had family and friends back in Japan. He’d just come here to take photos – he was only meant to be gone a couple of weeks! Ash curled in on himself, guilt roiling with emotional pain and grief. He felt sick, like he wanted to vomit; he dry heaved a few times but there was nothing in his stomach to come up.

“…Max…”

“Psssh… Pathetic!” Arthur scoffed at him. “The once proud street cat of Manhattan! If you could just see yourself! Ha!”

“Leave him be, Arthur,” Golzine shouted at him.

“As you wish, Monsieur,” Arthur shrugged. The goons stepped forward to claim the corpses of the two men, hefting the deadweights out of the chamber. Arthur followed them out, ‘accidentally’ nudging Ash hard with his foot as he passed. Ash barely even flinched.

*

By the following day, Ash had regained some strength in his legs and arms. They were less stiff and painful, recovering well following the punishment they had been through. The same could not be said for his state of mind. The chains on his wrists gave him just enough leeway to reach the nearest dark corner of the room, so as soon as he could move around without too much pain he had retreated into it and had sat curled in a pathetic ball most of the night, sometimes rocking back and forth as if instinctively trying to comfort himself any way he could. He stared at the middle distance, feeling numb and leaden, a hazy sense of deep loss blanketing his emotions. He didn’t care what happened to him. He didn’t fear death, but he did fear the suffering of others for his sake and losing people he cared for. In the space of a few weeks, he had lost Skipper, Griffin, Jennifer, Shorter, Alex, Kong and Bones and the rest of his boys, Ibe, and Max. 

He only had one person left now, and he knew they were probably being abused in the worst possible way while he sat here, a pathetic mess, unable to do anything. He couldn’t even cry any more.

Arthur came as usual to taunt him come morning,

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!” he said smarmily.

“…what do you want?” Ash croaked, not moving. He hadn’t slept at all, his eyes shadowed and sunken. Even though he’d only been down here for a few days, he’d noticeably lost weight, the remnants of the tuxedo he was wearing hanging off him. He had removed the cummerbund and the shirt was ripped, plus he was grimy with sweat, dust, and blood.

“Today’s the big day!” Arthur grinned sickeningly. “The day everyone has been waiting for! Especially me.”

“…”

“Ain’t you going to ask me what’s so special about it?”

“…”

“C’mon – have a guess, cutie pie!”

“…Is it the day I finally get to die?” Ash asked in a sarcastic monotone, although it lacked his usual enthusiasm or venom. He just sounded tired.

“Bingo!” Arthur crowed gleefully. “Golzine finally made his decision. Everything is in place, and it’ll be a glorious execution!”

“Fabulous…”

“Best of all, I get front row seats!”

“Good for you…”

“…This isn’t very enjoyable if you don’t get properly riled up, you know.”

“…”

“Are you broken?”

“…”

“Fuck, you suck all the fun out of everything!” Arthur frowned, sounding genuinely disappointed. “Here I was, ready to have a good time, just you, me, and Mr Knifey, and you go and kill the mood!”

“Sorry to disappoint…”

“Jesus, I thought this moment would be sweeter, the moment Ash fucking Lynx gave up, but it’s not! It’s just pathetic! Fuck’s sake – you’re a joke, Lynx!”

“…”

“Urgh! Why I ever thought you were a threat, I don’t know – you’re nothing more than a worthless whore!”

“You got that right…”

Arthur contemplated him for a few seconds. The person he saw in front of him now was not Ash Lynx. It wasn’t even a shadow of that person. He looked a lot older than his seventeen years, with the thousand yard stare of a distressed war veteran.

“Enjoy your last few hours of life,” he spat, before leaving. “I’ll get Golzine to bring you a final little present for a while – it may liven you up a little bit!”

*

Two hours later, two goons opened the door. They wordlessly dragged in a new prisoner, one who was barely conscious and flopped in a heap on the floor with a pained groan the minute they released him. Dressed in a baggy plain grey shirt and a pair of boxers, fluffy black hair mussed like a bird’s nest, Ash’s eyes widened as he recognised who it was.

“…Eiji… Oh God – Eiji!”

He scrambled towards the dazed teenager as the guards left and locked the door again, his chains clinking against the concrete as he scuttled over. He grabbed Eiji, rolling him over and raising his head up, cradling him in his arms. He had a black eye, several other deep purple bruises peppering his neck, arms, and legs, numerous hickeys dotting his throat. Scabs crusted the healing slash wounds Shorter had caused him earlier. Angry welts circled his wrists, and he moaned with a low whine when moved.

“Eiji… shit! This is all my fault – I should have pushed you away from me sooner…”

Eiji started to gain more coherence, his dark, childish eyes opening and, with a little difficulty, focusing on Ash’s face.

“…Ash?”

“I’m here, Eiji…”

“Ash!” Seeing Ash seemed to breathe some new life into him. He sat upright suddenly, spun round, and enveloped Ash in a desperate hug. He was shaking violently, making a keening sound in the back of his throat like a wounded animal.

“I’m sorry…” Ash whispered quietly, silent tears tracing paths down his filthy cheeks. He returned the hug, rubbing one hand soothingly up and down his friend’s back like Griff used to do when he was upset as a child.

“I was scared… so scared…” Eiji whimpered. “First what happen with Shorter, and then Golzine… he… he…” Eiji jabbered a few words of distressed Japanese, not even noticing he had switched languages. Ash got the gist of what he was saying though, and he understood better than most the shame, humiliation and anxiety his ordeal would leave behind. “I said stop… many times I said… but he not stop!”

“I know… I’m sorry.”

“I thought I going to die…”

“It’s OK.”

It wasn’t OK, but Ash couldn’t think of anything else to say in this scenario. He held Eiji quietly for a few more minutes before the Japanese boy pulled away from him, his eyes wide and shiny. Ash dreaded what was inevitably about to come…

“Where are Max? And Ibe-san?”

Ash lowered his gaze to the floor. He wanted to speak, to explain what had happened, but he couldn’t. Words failed him. He just shook his head sombrely.

“…No… they are… no…!”

“I’m sorry,” Ash said. “Golzine did another… experiment… on Max. He and Ibe… well, it was over fast. Ibe would have felt no pain…” He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. Eiji seemed to spiral into a panic attack at that statement, his breathing becoming erratic and jerky, tears springing from his eyes as he started to ugly cry. Ash pulled him back into another hug. He knew Eiji and Ibe had been very close, with a relationship similar to an uncle and nephew despite not being related. Losing his mentor had hit him hard. He fisted handfuls of Ash’s shirt into his hands as he sobbed and screamed, shivering with grief and pain. Ash maintained the embrace while Eiji calmed down, needing the hug almost as much himself. He fell silent eventually, but it was several long minutes before his desperate grip on his clothes loosened.

“Ibe-san bring me to America to cheer me up…” Eiji murmured sadly. “He stay because I stay… it my fault… all my fault. Should have gone back to Izumo. Even you say I should have gone home! Many time people tell me go home… If I had done, none of this happen! All I ever do is cause problem…”

“Jeez, you Japanese really are masochists, huh?” Ash said rhetorically. He finally broke the hug, holding Eiji out at arm’s length so he could make eye contact to drive his point home. “This is not your fault, Eiji. Not in the slightest!”

“But if I had-“

“Hindsight won’t do you any favours – it’ll just chew you up inside,” Ash told him, shaking him slightly. His chains clinked quietly, some of the links gently nudging Eiji’s side.

“…You are still chained?” he said, looking at the manacles.

“Fucking bastard didn’t want to take any chances with me, I reckon,” Ash growled. “I was kept hanging until yesterday. It still hurts to move, but looking at you I’d say you have it worse.”

“My ass hurt…” Eiji whimpered sheepishly. “Everything hurt, really, but I cannot sit down or use toilet without pain… there is blood… how you survive so many year?”

“I put up with it because it was that or die. I’d like to say you get used to it, but you don’t,” Ash replied truthfully. “Unless it’s consensual, it will always hurt.”

“Why they doing this to us?”

“Petty revenge because we know too much and because I rebelled when I should have been a good and submissive little boy,” Ash sighed. “Fuck… life has never been kind to me. Sometimes I just… I wish I’d not been born, y’know?”

“Do not say that,” Eiji scolded him. “If you not be born, we would never meet…”

“Probably would have been better for you if we hadn’t.”

“I no care about what best for me,” Eiji said, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. “I like you. I glad we meet!”

“Me too, Eiji…” Ash sighed, scooting back across the floor to lean back against one of the support pillars. “Arthur confirmed that today will be the day I die. Knowing Golzine, it isn’t going to be pretty.”

Eiji crawled over to sit next to him, leaning gently against his left side. “I here with you,” he said sadly. “You not alone.”

Ash tentatively reached a hand over, finding and lacing his fingers through Eiji’s, feeling the Japanese boy squeeze back lightly.

*

Around noon, Arthur, Dawson, and four goons entered the cell. Ash automatically looked up at the balcony. It wasn’t long before Golzine stomped into view, his usual delegate of military and sharp suited government officials in tow.

“Oh no…” Ash muttered.

“Ash…” Eiji whimpered nervously. “Is it…?”

“Another Banana Fish test,” Ash confirmed. He sensed Eiji’s panic, could feel him shaking. He squeezed his hand; they hadn’t released each other since they had joined hands earlier. ‘Please… give the damn thing to me – not him!’ Ash pleaded to himself. At least if he took it and they set him on Eiji, he could guarantee Eiji wouldn’t suffer. Even if he was hallucinating and out of his mind, Ash reckoned he’d still kill someone quickly and cleanly – it was what he had been taught to do, after all. It would be like Ibe; sudden, painless, over in a flash.

Unfortunately, Golzine had other plans.

“This time, we are testing the effectiveness of oral administration for you gentlemen,” Golzine told his guests. “As I said before, it is slightly slower than hypodermics, but just as effective. We have picked an especially close pairing to demonstrate its power to you, and unlike previous times we have chosen someone with no fighting ability at all to administer it to.”

“Fuck – you leave Eiji alone, you son of a bitch!” Ash shrieked. Sudden rage gave him strength, and he rose to his feet to put himself in front of Eiji. His legs were shaky, but he held himself steady, his muscles having finally recovered enough to take his weight fully again, adrenaline assisting them. “Haven’t you done enough to him already?!”

“Oh honey, you know this isn’t about him – it’s all about you!” Arthur crooned. “You should have picked your friends better if you don’t want them to get hurt because of you, Lynx.”

“Go eat a dick, Arthur!” Ash hissed.

“Yeah, I’m just going to string you back up again for a bit, Ash…” Arthur grinned, walking over to the lever on the wall that controlled the chain mechanism. Ash snarled in frustration and anger as the chains forcefully dragged him back into captivity. He howled a slew of swears and colourful slurs at everyone in the room, fighting the mechanism but losing.

“Ash!” Eiji cried out at him as he was hauled roughly back into the prone Y-position. He then flinched, seeing that a couple of the goons were coming for him. He scrambled to his feet, shambling away from them.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM!” Ash shrieked at them. “EIJI!!! SHIT! YOU BASTARDS!!!”

They lunged at Eiji, grabbing him and dragging him over to Dawson. The whole time, Ash clamoured at them to leave him alone and let him go.

Eiji thrashed around viciously trying to break free, literally fighting for his life. He was stronger than he looked; his legs and arms, while skinny, were practically all athletic muscle, but was outnumbered and outmatched by men far larger than him. To his credit, it took three heavies to subdue him; one on each arm and one grabbing his legs to stop him kicking. They looked a little surprised at his sudden strength; he’d been nothing but compliant and easy to subdue before. Now, he had suddenly morphed into an angry, flailing feral cat, screaming and hissing at them in vicious Japanese that didn’t sound child-friendly. They managed to force him into a kneeling position, reducing their number to two once his legs were under him and unable to strike. Arthur stepped forward and grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head back, as Dawson approached him with a capsule in one hand. Eiji closed his mouth, keeping it stubbornly shut. He refused to open his mouth, even when Arthur held his nose pinched in an attempt to get him to gasp. Eiji was smart, and forced air through his teeth in a panicked wheeze instead of unlocking his jaw.

“You’re gonna have to take this eventually, Samurai Boy,” Arthur growled at him. “I’m not against removing some teeth if necessary.”

“Just force his mouth open with something!” Dawson snapped.

Arthur pulled out his flip-knife. “You may wanna just open up unless you want to risk me slipping this into your neck or down your throat!” he whispered menacingly, jimmying the knife between Eiji’s teeth and levering his jaw open. Eiji moaned intelligibly, sobbing, as Arthur managed to gain entry and wrench his mouth open enough for Dawson to drop the capsule in. When he went to spit it out, Arthur clamped a hand on his chin and kept his mouth closed tight. “Ah ah ah! You were so keen to keep that whore mouth of yours closed a few seconds ago – no opening it up now!” Dawson rubbed his throat to encourage him to swallow, like one would after feeding a dog or a cat a pill. While Eiji tried to resist, the technique worked and with a whimper he unwillingly swallowed the capsule.

“EIJI!!!” Ash shrieked, seeing him choke down the tablet. “SHIIIIIIT!”

“It’s gone,” Dawson confirmed, feeling the swallow. “It should start to have an effect in about ten to fifteen minutes.”

“You may want to start praying to whatever Gods you people believe in now,” Arthur said with a smirk. “You’re about to have one hell of a trip!”

“Fuck you…” Eiji growled at him.

“Oh, your English is getting better – you learnt a curse word! You kiss your Jap mother with that mouth? You know, while Ash was rotting away in here and Golzine was having his filthy way with you, they gave me the happy job of finding out more about you. You were practically off-the-grid in the States – just a tourist, a photographer’s assistant here to see the sights, although your passport did tell us that you are older than you look. So we did a little digging of our own, and what do you know, your name cropped up on the sports page of an old Chinese newspaper! You competed internationally in the Asian Athletic Championships two years ago, representing Japan in pole vault! That explains how you escaped the compound that first time – you vaulted the wall! Very clever, Samurai Boy!”

Eiji tried struggling again, straining against the heavies holding him. If he got free, maybe he could force himself to be sick before the capsule dissolved and the drug started to have an effect. If nothing else, he could try and punch Arthur in his smug blonde face while he was still compos mentis enough to do so. He moaned pitifully as he wrenched and tugged to no avail.

“No wonder the Monsieur liked what he saw – he doesn’t get many athletes in his harem!” Arthur taunted him while Eiji glared at him. “I bet he had great fun playing with you, giving you a different kind of pole to vault…”

“Leave him alone, Arthur!” Ash growled ferally.

“What’s your weapon of choice, Samurai Boy?” Arthur asked conversationally, like he was chatting to a good friend. “A knife? Like Shorter? Or a gun, like Lynx over there? I personally prefer knives, getting up close and personal with your victim, stabbing them in where it’s warm and cosy. Or maybe you like something else? I bet you’d be real good with a spear, seeing as you’re used to handling poles. Or a baseball bat – you like sports, so why not? Oh! You’re Japanese, yeah? What about a sword? You wanna swing around a katana? Be a real samurai?”

“I no want any weapon!” Eiji hissed. He’d already been terrified, but his breathing was starting to show further signs of changing, becoming quicker and shallower, like Max’s had done. The absorption process of Banana Fish being administered by mouth was painfully slow compared to direct injection. Ash found himself wondering how Griffin had been forced to take it; was he injected or did someone poison his food or drink? Did he descend into madness suddenly and violently, or was it slow and anxiety-ridden like Eiji?

“Dawson!” He decided to just ask the source outright. “When you drugged my brother, Griffin, did you inject him or poison him?”

“Griffin? I doped his rations. Banana Fish works slower on a full stomach, so I gave him a mix of just a tiny bit of Banana Fish and a large dose of fast-acting diuretic. When he left to piss, the Banana Fish was just starting to take full effect. I pulled him aside and suggested he shoot everyone, which he did spectacularly! Serves them right!”

“You absolute bastard…” Ash spat.

“Your friend here hasn’t eaten for at least 24 hours and the dose I gave him is about four times greater than what I gave your brother. He’s healthy but stressed, which heightens his blood pressure and metabolism, and his body mass is pretty small, so the drug is acting much faster than usual for an oral administration,” Dawson explained. “Griffin went mad a lot slower than this. It took quarter of an hour for him to start showing, and then he started pacing around camp, agitated, for a good ten minutes before the full effects began to set in. It was actually really interesting to see the difference between oral and direct administration – the direct method leaps straight to hallucination within a couple of minutes and skips the impending doom feeling leading up to it that oral causes.”

“My brother suffered in hell for years because of you…” Ash muttered darkly.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen, you know!” Dawson argued. “Everyone else who has taken the drug in its pure form has died! I didn’t want to do it either but… he was suspicious of me! You understand, right? Still, I’d have loved to have studied Griffin further – see how exactly he survived! I am curious as to how his brain was altered…”

“You are a sick motherfucker!” Ash told him.

“What? No, I’m not sick! I’m a scientist!”

“Fuck you, asshole!”

Eiji started to whimper pitifully, and he tried to fight his captors off again but they held him tight.

“Eiji!” Ash cried out to him.

“He’s starting to get antsy, Dawson,” Arthur said. “I think it’s starting.”

“He’s not hallucinating yet,” Dawson said blandly. “He’s just experiencing the first feelings of unease. But it shows it’s working as it should.”

“You hear that, Samurai Boy? It’s starting to work! No going back! You feeling weird yet? You feel like screaming?”

“N…no…” Eiji moaned.

“You can let him go. He won’t be able to do anything to change his fate now,” Dawson said. The goons finally let Eiji go, and he cradled his head in his hands tugging at his hair, as if confused as well as scared, making quiet noises of agitation.

“Eiji, try and calm down! Take deep breaths!” Ash told him desperately, unable to do much else. “When people take LSD, they are less likely to have a bad trip if they’re in a good mood! Try and think happy thoughts!!!” It was a pointless suggestion, really. For one, how could anyone think happy, calming things in this situation. For another, Banana Fish overrode any moods and replaced them with abject terror anyway, but it was worth a shot.

“You look like a fucking mental patient,” Arthur told him. He leaned in a little too close to Eiji, mocking him. Eiji snapped, and with a cry he smacked Arthur away, raking his nails over Arthur’s face leaving three shallow scratches. “Oh, you little bitch!” Arthur swore at him, punching him in the side of the head as retaliation.

“Eiji!” Ash screamed as his friend sprawled out on the floor. He stayed down once hit, but Ash could see he was still conscious, moaning and quivering as the drugs took hold faster and faster. He was starting to lose himself; Ash had flashbacks to how Griffin had acted during his episodes, curling into a ball in bed or rocking back and forth in his chair, crying and shaking, muttering nonsense and groaning to himself. He would have seizures with the worst ones, mouth foaming and limbs jerking, screaming gibberish words into the darkness…

“He fights like a pansy!” Arthur said angrily, wiping blood off his face.

“Fuck you, Arthur!” Ash shrieked. He fought against his chains, feeling the manacles slice into his wrists. “Fuck all of you!”

“I wonder if Banana Fish affects Blacks, Caucasians and Asians differently?” Dawson muttered, mainly to himself. “He seems to be going under a lot quicker than the soldiers in ‘Nam did, and they were mainly black or white… it hasn’t really been tested on Asians or other ethnicities very much." 

“Don’t you have even a shred of human decency?!” Ash snapped at him. If he could just get loose… he might not be able to save Eiji now, but he could at least put him out of his misery before he got worse, like he had done with Shorter. He knew several ways of killing someone that didn’t require a gun – he just needed a few seconds of freedom! “Eiji! Fuck!!!” 

Eiji cried out something in Japanese, followed by a stream of apologies to nobody and nothing in particular. Ash caught words like ‘Okaasan’ and ‘kowai’ as well as his own name amongst what was mainly gibberish in any language. Then he kept repeating two words: ‘gomennasai’ - the same word Ibe had used a few days ago - and ‘daijoubu’. The latter one he repeated in a mantra, as if to console and remind himself of something. He got progressively louder, his hands pressed over his eyes as he curled up on the floor.

“I think the hallucinations have begun,” Dawson said with a certain level of glee in his voice. “That was a lot faster than I was expecting! It’s only been eight minutes and we’re already at a stage we can place suggestions into his mind!” 

Arthur bent down and forcibly hoisted Eiji up from his prone position. Now completely under the influence of the Banana Fish, he didn’t resist. “I wish I knew what you were seeing, Samurai Boy,” he whispered in his ear while he panted and whined incoherently. “But one thing I can tell you is that everything you are enduring now is the fault of Ash Lynx. You hate him, right? You hate that pretty-boy with a passion. You wish he was dead.” Arthur dragged him over to stand in front of Ash, forced him to look up and make eye contact. Ash had never seen him look so terrified; his eyes were wide, the pupils so enlarged that his usually warm deep brown irises were almost entirely black, cold sweat beading on his forehead and neck, his breathing ragged and rapid. “This guy here is the reason you’re in pain! This guy here – you have to kill him!”

“Eiji – I’m sorry!” Ash told him.

“N…no…” Eiji whimpered. Ash could see him really fighting the suggestion, flickers of recognition dancing in his eyes. “I… I cannot!”

“You can! If you do, everything will become better! You’ll be free!”

“IIEEEEE!” Eiji shrieked, trying to shy away from Ash. He bucked out of Arthur’s grip and backed up to the other side of the cell, shaking violently and whining in a high-pitched tone. 

“You could have gone back home at any time,” Arthur pressed him. “He dragged you into this mess. He is the reason you’re here.”

“No…. no…. that not true!” Eiji moaned. “I here because… my fault!”

“Wow, he’s really fighting it!” Dawson said, sounding shocked. “I could have sworn he was under the full effects by now? Maybe I was wrong? Is it because his first language is Japanese? Would it work if we used a language he’d understand better?”

“Oh, he’s tripping alright!” Arthur stated. “And he will do as we demand, won’t you Flying Samurai? Eh? You’ll kill Ash Lynx, won’t you? After all, he’s the source of all your misery!”

“N…no…”

“The journalist and the photographer died because of him. You remember the photographer, right? You two must have been pretty close. He was really worried about you – he kept asking where you were! And then he died! He was really scared, you know? And he could have lived. He died because that bastard over there fucked up big time! Are you going to accept that? Or are you going to get revenge???”

Eiji screamed; a wavering, animalistic sound that echoed off the walls. He held his head in his hands, fingers threaded into his hair, tears streaming down his face. Ash felt a tight, unpleasant feeling in his chest as the sound resonated inside him, reverberated in his heart and shattered it into tiny pieces.

“…Eiji…” Ash whispered quietly, broken. 

“Here,” Arthur said, faking a sympathetic voice as he handed Eiji his flip knife. “A present for you. Use it to stab Ash. Kill him. You’ll feel better.” 

Eiji tentatively took the knife, handling it with the same nervousness that one may hold a grenade with the pin pulled out. His hands quivered so violently he almost dropped it, and he could barely see through vision blurred by tears. He shuffled forwards a couple of steps towards Ash with leaden feet, his gait stiff and clumsy, like a zombie dragging its limbs. He kept making involuntary wheezing, whimpering sounds of panic, staccato gasps of disquiet on every exhale. Ash met his eyes as he came closer, saw how glassy and empty they were. He was seeing everything and nothing at the same time, stuck in a nightmare of which there was no awakening.

“Fuck…” Ash mumbled, his voice quiet and wavering. “…Eiji…” 

Eiji was right in front of him now. He looked a lot smaller than normal, childish and terrified, his whole body trembling so much it was a miracle he could remain standing. The knife in his hands was a complete juxtaposition to his usual peaceful self; even now, as he grasped it in blind panic like a lifeline, it looked wrong in his fist.

“Do it! Stab him!” Arthur egged him on, encouraging and mad with power, his expression gleeful and insane.

Unlike Max and Shorter, or even Griffin from what he had been told, Eiji hesitated. He made direct eye contact with Ash, staring as if entranced or as if some part of him was pleading for help or forgiveness. He raised the knife… and then froze.

“Do it, Eiji…” Ash whispered at him. “It’s ok. I understand.”

“…aaaaaah… I… I… I cannot…” Eiji whimpered. “I do not want to kill…” He sobbed woefully, a few words of mumbled Japanese falling from his lips. The words ‘itai’ and ‘tasukete’ could be made out, but Ash had no idea what they meant. His eyes cleared momentarily, losing the unfocused glaze and seeing with distressing clarity. “I want to die…”

“I’m so sorry…” Ash replied.

“FUCKING DO IT!” Arthur shrieked wildly. “DON’T JUST STAND THERE, YOU JAP COWARD! KILL HIM!”

“Yurushite kudasai…” Eiji whispered. “Forgive me… I cannot… I… I… Aishiteru…” Then with a howl, he stabbed the knife violently into the side of his own neck.

“EIJI!” Ash cried out in shock and surprise. Eiji collapsed in front of him, the knife falling with a clatter at his side. He writhed around for a few seconds, making unpleasant choking noises in a strangled scream, before finally falling still and silent. He’d managed to hit his carotid artery – whether intentionally or not - which meant his death had come swiftly if a little unpleasantly, lying in a spreading pool of his own gore.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!” Arthur screamed angrily. Up on the viewing deck, Ash could hear murmurs of conversation, Papa Dino trying to smooth things over as the test had suddenly taken a sharp U-turn away from the desired outcome.

“I don’t get it?” Dawson said, confused. ”He shouldn’t have been able to fight it! How is that even possible?” 

As the initial shock wore off, Ash found himself involuntarily laughing. It started quiet, a few huffs under his breath, but it rose like a crescendo from an uncontrollable giggle to an insane guffaw. He hung from the chains, tittering like a mad person, crying at the madness and irony of it all. Eiji’s last act had been one giant ‘fuck you’ to Banana Fish and, tragic as it was, Ash couldn’t help but feel proud and find that act both hilarious and cathartic. He’d likely be joining him soon anyway – while he wanted to mourn, it would be pointless to do so.

“Things don’t always go your way, huh, Papa Dino!” he shouted between spontaneous chuckles of mirth. “As much as you wish you could control them, there is nothing as queer as folk. Eiji just flipped you and your little murder drug the bird!”

“Shut up, Lynx!” Arthur shrieked at him, livid. “Damn Samurai Boy – who the fuck commits suicide!? A coward right to the end!”

“Only coward I see here is you, Arthur,” Ash said scathingly. “So, what are you going to do now, hmm? You’ve officially taken everything of worth from me. Tell me; does it feel good?”

“Stop smirking!” Arthur hissed. “You’re supposed to be broken!”

“I broke a long time ago…” Ash sighed, a weirdly serene smile on his face as he hung limp in the restraints.

The door opened and Dino Golzine himself strolled into the room, having ushered his delegates into another room and leaving them with Gregory to smooth things over. He marched over to Ash, risking a distasteful glance to the corpse on the floor at his feet, before turning his attention fully to his rebellious charge, his eyes dark with anger and cruelty.

“How the mighty have fallen,” he growled, watching Ash attempting to get his giggles under control. “What happened to that pride of yours? Pathetic!”

“You made me this way, Papa,” Ash told him.

“I didn’t raise you to be this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all,” Ash shot back. “What you did was rape a perfectly good monkey then gave it a gun and anxiety!”

“You are a disappointment,” Dino spat. “You bring shame to me and shame to yourself!”

“And here’s me thinking I was shameless.”

Dino reached under his smoking jacket and pulled a pistol from a concealed holster. Ash heard Arthur take a sharp intake of breath, excitable as Dino moved his arm up slowly to rest the muzzle of the pistol against Ash’s forehead.

“The kindest thing for a wounded animal is to put it out of it’s misery,” Dino said quietly.

“So do it!” Ash replied, his voice dangerously quiet. He felt remarkably calm as he glared up at Dino. 

“Send him to hell, Papa!” Arthur hissed, grinning maniacally.

“I’ll go willingly,” Ash replied, smirking. “I’ll save you a good spot in the deepest levels!”

“A pity it had to come to this,” Dino said sadly. “Goodbye, Ash.”

A gunshot rang out, loud and echoing in the chamber. 

With it, the Lynx in chains found liberation at last. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.


End file.
